There's a place out there
silent as the shadow of a cloud
drifting over a lonely hill.
In the murmurs of grasses
I swear you can hear
the echoes of stories
woven into the fabric of light.
"Did it ever exist?" she asked,
as the sun dipped low in a soft sigh.
You could walk these trails without shoes,
feeling the earth's breath beneath your soles,
just thinking about how things change
over time, like the slow melting
of frost at the touch of dawn.
Enter the Woods if you dare to follow whispers.
Or perhaps
Unspoken Dreams wait for you beneath the trees.
Every step here feels like a conversation
with a friend who long left town,
only visiting your thoughts
on cloudy afternoons
and lingering dusks.